


Make Me Bleed

by justanothermaniac



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Butt Plugs, Choking, Fight Sex, Fighting Kink, Hate Sex, Knifeplay, Lots of biting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Sort of? - Freeform, They love each other, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, and claiming, but it's the valeska twins sooo, it's the rough type of love, they're hella possessive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-29 21:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20803241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothermaniac/pseuds/justanothermaniac
Summary: They were two shards of a broken mirror. They belonged together but try to push them back into their frame, their sharp edges would cut into each other and splinter.





	Make Me Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> WOOHOO! FIGHT PORN! I hope. I tried.
> 
> Have fun! But beware, it's the Joker twins after all.
> 
> ~ jam 💙

Jeremiah seems more relaxed when he's working, bent over his blueprints with each hand pressed flat to the table. He's mumbling to himself, occasionally straightening up to hold one of his blueprints up and study it more closely, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes clear and focused but holding a spark he possessed since childhood, back when the precisely sketched plueprints were sloppily drawn labyrinths.

Jerome loves watching that. It makes his stomach burn hot and sends a shiver down his spine. Jeremiah is usually so keen on keeping up this facade he created, even after his transformation. Sure, he finally let loose, embraced his own faultily wired brain, opened his eyes to his twisted desires after Jerome so _graciously_ helped pushing him in the right direction.

Jeremiah doesn't pretend to be any less broken than he is anymore, however, he _insists_ on acting like the Queen of fucking England, all high and mighty, lips pursed like those of a sixteen year old girl sizing up a lovesick boy she deems unworthy of her attention. He's cocky on a phenomenal level, batting his eyelashes while explaining to Jerome just how _inferior_ he is in comparison to _yours truly,_ flaunting himself all the while pretending that he doesn't choke around Jerome's dick on the regular. 

It's as insufferable as it is intriguing and Jerome loves nothing more than to break that facade down, break _Jeremiah_ down, make him cry, make him _beg. _Jeremiah likes to pretend he's above everything and everyone, above _Jerome_ but all he needs is a little bit of touching, a little bit of violence and he melts like wax in Jerome's hands, his trembling flesh heating up beneath Jerome's fingertips, his smooth skin breaking under Jerome's teeth. 

Jerome is a little too deep in his own thoughts, doesn't register the annoyed sigh coming from his brother. "I know you're there, Jerome."

The sound of Jeremiah's voice however manages to snap Jerome out of his thoughts. Jeremiah still has his back to him, but Jerome catches the quick movement of his right hand, reaching for the switchblade he always has nearby.

Jerome is grasping his own switchblade a little tighter, thumbing the small lever on the handle. "Really? Huh." He pushes himself away from the wall, slowly walking closer to Jeremiah. "Gotta work on my _sneak attacks_ then."

He flicks the blade out, just at the same as Jeremiah swirls around, blade in hand as well. Jerome dodges his attack and flings his own knife, nicking Jeremiah's cheek. His brother gives a pained hiss, trying to land a punch but Jerome ducks.

Jeremiah seems to have anticipated this because he pulls his knee up so it collides with Jerome's jaw. He accidentally bites his tongue and groans as he tumbles back a little, his mouth filling with the copper taste of blood. Not that he would mind but his own blood doesn't taste _nearly_ as sweet as Jeremiah's does.

Jerome regains his footing fairly quickly, his heartbeat so loud that he can hear it in his own head. He takes in Jeremiah's crazed eyes, his heaving chest, the small cut on his cheek starting to trickle red.

Jerome doesn't break the eye contact as he spits on the floor, licking the remaining blood from his lips. Judging by the way Jeremiah's pupils blow up, he has to be quite the sight. He starts grinning, which prompts Jeremiah to frown. He can sense the impending attack and charges as well, their arms colliding with their respective blades gripped tightly.

"Knock knock", Jerome says, wiggling his eyebrows at his brother.

Jeremiah rolls his eyes. "Please make it quick, whatever it is that you need." He suddenly ducks and gracefully turns around and away from Jerome. His own momentum causes Jerome to almost crash into the desk but he manages to catch himself. "I'm already developing a migraine and your presence isn't exactly helpful."

Jerome giggles, plunging the switchblade into the tabletop, right through the center of one of Jeremiah's precious blueprints, just to piss him off. When he turns around and sees the narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he knows he succeeded. "Ouch. Bitchy today, are we? Good thing I know how to deal with that." 

He grabs his crotch at that statement, his dick already half hard from their fight. He snickers, knowing without a doubt that Jeremiah is in the same condition.

Jeremiah, in true diva fashion, huffs out one of his trademark chuckles, arrogant and condescending. Too bad Jerome already caught the hungry look in his eyes when he watched Jerome palm himself through his pants for a split second. "Really. The second time this week? You're certainly desperate, aren't you?"

Jerome would've bashed Jeremiah's head through the wall at the almost unbearable amount of arrogance if he weren't in such a good mood. So instead, he cocks his head, pushing himself off of the desk. "Uh-huh. _Me._ It's usually _your_ thirsty little ass coming to _me _every other Tuesday. What's the matter, sweet-cheeks? Just admit that you're -"

He flicks the switchblade away. "- _head_ over _heels_ for me ~"

To emphasize his words, he grips a fistful of pine green hair and hooks a leg around Jeremiah's. They crash to the floor before Jeremiah is able to counter attack, the air knocked out of him when his back connects with the concrete. Jerome pins both of his wrists down, leaning in close enough to feel Jeremiah's rapid breath against his face, his pupils dilated as he pants, prompting Jerome's skin to start tingling.

"Don't flatter yourself, brother", Jeremiah presses out between clenched teeth, nose held up high as if he wasn't _completely_ and _utterly_ at Jerome's mercy right now. "You just happen to be _conveniently_ easy to seduce."

Jerome throws his head back, his chest bubbling with laughter. So full of himself. But Jeremiah is going to be full of something _else_ soon...

"Oh, am I? Well." Jerome sits back, letting go of Jeremiah's wrists, a small corner inside his mind very aware of the switchblade his brother is still grasping, albeit loosely. "Then why don'tcha seduce me right now, baby bro?"

Jeremiah raises an eyebrow at him, bringing the tip of his switchblade to his mouth, sucking on it with a mocking hum. Jerome's breath hitches. "If you insist..."

Jeremiah surges upwards, fingers tangling in Jerome's tie as he pushes him on his back. Jerome grunts, the back of his head smacking against the floor, his vision swimming for a second. He registers movement, a blur of green and white and purple, the very familiar curve of Jeremiah's ass pressing down on his groin.

Jerome's body jolts upwards at that, seeking friction and he blinks rapidly, wanting, _needing_ to see. He feels the press of cold metal against his cheek, the graze of heart-shaped lips over his earlobe.

Jerome moans when Jeremiah's tongue flicks over his skin, the moan turning into a grunt when he tilts the blade, letting it glide down Jerome's cheek. Most of the nerves in his face are damaged, some are numb but others are overly sensitive, burning at the sharp caress.

He bucks his hips for more friction, shivering when his brother's mouth leaves his ear to lap up the blood from the cut on his cheek. His eyelids flutter closed when one of Jeremiah's hands runs through his hair, leaving him floating on a cloud of bliss.

The spell is broken by Jeremiah pulling back at once, the switchblade gone as he has both hands pressing flat against Jerome's chest to push him on his back again. He's smirking down at the rapidly blinking Jerome, head tilted so a curtain of green silk falls before one of his eyes. "Told you ~"! 

Brat. No matter how old they get, no matter how often they've betrayed each other, hurt each other, broken and mended each other back together, no matter the amount of insanity gas and bloody reconciliations, Jeremiah will always be a manipulative, slippery little _brat._

"Fucking tease, _c'mere",_ Jerome spews out, reaching up and yanking Jeremiah down with his tie, their lips and teeth clashing in a bruising kiss. Jerome uses both hands to tighten the knot of Jeremiah's tie, reveling in the way it makes him twitch and try to gasp for air. Jerome doesn't let him, swallowing down every sound of protest as shoves his tongue in Jeremiah's mouth, tasting whiskey and black coffee with the slightest touch of sugar. He loves tasting his brother. However, _something_ is missing...

Jerome clamps his teeth down on Jeremiah's bottom lip, making him groan, which prompts a shiver to run down his spine. There it is. He envelops Jeremiah's bottom lip with both of his, drinking up the exquisite sweetness, hands still tight around Jeremiah's tie.

Jeremiah whines, a needy, desperate little sound that is almost as delicious as the taste of his blood. When they pull away from each other, gasping and breathing each other in, Jerome runs one hand from Jeremiah's tie to the back of his neck and upwards, finding his hair, gripping. "Hope you're already prepped cuz I'm not in the mood for much foreplay tonight..."

Jeremiah's eyes have closed sometime during the assault on his lips. He doesn't open them when he huffs out a chuckle, blood still collecting on his bottom lip. "Are you ever?", he breathes out, pointedly grinding his ass against Jerome's crotch again.

Jerome mutters out a curse under his breath. "Good point", he replies breathlessly. "Get up."

Jeremiah scrambles to his feet once Jerome let go of his hair, following suit. He doesn't waste any time, grabbing Jeremiah by his hips and kissing him again. With that extraordinary taste dancing on his tongue, he can't help but reminisce.

He spent the majority of his teens looking for timid, nerdy looking gingers, fucked them into the wall of whatever bar he found them in, or made them suck his dick behind the dumpster of some ally. He made them cry and beg and scream his name, all for the sake of trying to replace what was taken from him when he was only ten.

Jeremiah's arms wrap around Jerome's neck, one of his hands tangling in his hair, shuddering when Jerome's teeth sink into the wound in his bottom lip once more.

Jerome always knew what he felt for Jeremiah went way beyond sibling love, if you could even call it that. They were barely even brothers in the short time they grew up together. They were two shards of a broken mirror. They belonged together but try to push them back into their frame, their sharp edges would cut into each other and splinter. If you kept them apart however, they'd slice into the flesh of anyone that tried to pick them up.

Jerome pushes Jeremiah backwards, pressing him into the wall. Their hips make contact and they both moan in unison.

They weren't good for each other and Jerome didn't pretend that they were. But Jeremiah was _his,_ his to hurt, his to shield from unwanted attention, his, his, _his._ His baby brother. His other half, his favorite toy. He was everything Jerome had and Jerome was everything Jeremiah had. He'd cry when Jerome held him down and plead Jerome to stop when he cut the letters of his name into Jeremiah's arm with his pocket knife, he'd hiss _I hate you_ at Jerome afterwards, only to curl against Jerome's chest at night and fall asleep to the sound of Jerome's heartbeat. The twins clawed at each other's heart and soul every day, but they were tied together regardles, unseverable. Even after Jeremiah left.

"Mmh, the wall _again?",_ Jeremiah whispers, gasping when Jerome starts mouthing at his neck. "Could it be that...you're losing your _touch,_ brother dear?"

When Jeremiah abandoned him, Jerome was lost. The only thing he ever loved was ripped away from him and that's when he spiraled down into a world of pain and blood. The animals he used to torment grew bigger and turned into whimpering homeless men, clutching their remaining fingers to their chests, asking _why, why, why would you do this._ Jerome would only laugh at them, laugh so hard that his belly started to hurt and tears spilled from his eyes. _Why indeed._

"Like you don't _love_ the wall", Jerome murmurs against Jeremiah's skin, biting down and sucking a dark mark into the paleness.

Jeremiah moans, exposing more of his neck to Jerome's demanding mouth. "Wasn't my point..!"

Mutilating homeless people wasn't enough for long. Once he hit puberty, Jerome felt an endless hunger, a hunger that threatened to consume him. He started touching himself at night with his face buried in Jeremiah's pillow, the strawberry scent of his hair barely there anymore but engraved in Jerome's memory. He imagined what Jeremiah would look like, which wasn't too difficult given that they're twins, and picture him writhing on the mattress, freckled cheeks flushed and wet from tears. He'd imagine his soft voice begging Jerome for more, more pain, more touching. He imagined what Jeremiah would feel like once Jerome was inside him.

Jeremiah's breath hitches when Jerome snakes his hands under his purple button-up, raking his nails down Jeremiah's sides. "Ah...ye-es ~"

The fantasy only fueled Jerome's hunger and he started looking for replacements, found them in libraries, coffee shops, bars they _(and Jerome himself)_, were too young to be in. They were easy enough, easier even than Jeremiah would've been, mousey, unconventionally pretty little bookworms that were starved for attention and praise. He charmed them into trusting him, complimented them, leaving them flustered and wanting. And then he'd break them, leave them crying and afraid, confused because they were still drawn to him. Because Jerome _made_ them.

Jeremiah is tugging at his tie, loosening it enough to pull the knot open and fling it aside. Jerome is still marking him, relishing his high-pitched whines, shivering at the thought that everyone would be able to see the claim, _his_ claim. 

If someone told his eighteen-year-old self that one day, Jeremiah would truly and undoubtedly be his and _only_ his, he would've laughed, _hysterically,_ his heart aching all the while he sliced a bloody grin into the treacherous mouth of the filthy liar.

He smiles against Jeremiah's neck. If only he'd known. He would've tried to hunt his baby brother down much, _much_ sooner. Maybe it would've even spared him a death or two.

Jeremiah is furiously tugging on his suit jacket now. "Off..!", he snarls and Jerome snickers, rotating his hips against Jeremiah's own.

"Oh, I'm _gonna_ get off, broski..."

Jeremiah is definitely not amused by the joke. His hands leave Jerome's jacket to fumble with his belt instead. "Your clothes...off..._now..!" _He struggles with talking, which Jerome finds to be an absolute delight, batting Jeremiah's hands away once he pulled down the zipper of his pants.

"I told ya, I'm not in the mood." He bites down on Jeremiah's earlobe, tugging his pants down for quick access to what he needs. When he reaches around Jeremiah to get a good grip on those plump cheeks, he pauses. Feels.

And grins.

He thumbs the butt plug, giggling right next to Jeremiah's ear. It has quite a small hilt, easy to grasp and use for more than just loosening up. Who's _desperate_ now? 

Jeremiah tenses up a little but doesn't comment on it otherwise. He more or less obediently wraps his legs around Jerome's waist when Jerome picks him up, leaving his pants and underwear discarded on the floor. He's not left with much of a choice. "You consider...un-undressing as foreplay?", he grits out, body giving a tiny jerk when Jerome wraps a hand around the butt plug.

"You _don't?" _He pulls the toy out before pushing it in again.

Jeremiah mewls, clutching at Jerome's shoulders, shaking at the sudden assault. It takes him a while to catch his breath, gripping Jerome's shoulders hard enough to hurt. "You're a...an insufferably sardonic moron..!"

Jerome giggles, starts moving the toy in and out again, nuzzling at Jeremiah's neck, taking in the vibrations coming from his throat with every little whimper he gives. "And _you're_ a needy cockslut but ya won't hear _me_ complainin'."

Jeremiah hisses and Jerome isn't sure whether it's because of his actions or his words. He thinks it's the latter though when delicate fingers take ahold of his hair and yank his head back, away from Jeremiah's neck. "For God's sake", Jeremiah whispers harshly, pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed a lovely crimson shade. "Shut _up."_

He proceeds to _help_ Jerome with shutting up, kissing him roughly, angrily, teeth sinking in Jerome's bottom lip to return the favor from before. Jerome greatly appreciates the gesture, moaning at the sting, still working the butt plug in and out of Jeremiah, leaving him twitching and whimpering into his mouth.

Jerome's own pants are getting much too tight though, so he doesn't keep up the teasing for long, as much as he _loves_ teasing his brother. He breaks the kiss after another bite, easing the plug from Jeremiah's hole.

He presses Jeremiah further into the wall for more support, pulling his hand back to get a closer look on the plug. The corners of his mouth perk up. "Still can't fucking believe literally _all_ of your toys are purple."

Jeremiah's forehead is pressed to his temple while Jerome examines the toy, blinking once and starting to snicker at the ridiculously pretty rhinestones on the hilt. He's felt them but _seeing_ them is a completely different story. "And so damn _sparkly._ What even for? 's not like anyone except me _sees '_em, and even_ I_ don't pay much attention to 'em most of the time."

He turns his head back to look at Jeremiah, whose eyes are half closed, his breaths coming out shaky. "Liar", he whispers, his legs tightening around Jerome's middle, applying pressure to his overly sensitive crotch. Jerome grunts at the mix between discomfort and delicious friction, the plug connecting with the floor with a dull little clank as Jerome drops it to resume the bruising grip on his brother's thighs. 

"You _love_ how pretty they are", Jeremiah continues, voice more breath than sound as he leans his head forward, his lips ghosting over Jerome's earlobe. "You love how pretty_ I_ am..!"

And Jerome can't help but snicker at that because _fuck,_ if it isn't the truth. He hums in agreement, pressing mocking little kisses to the side of Jeremiah's face while trying to pull out his cock without his brother realizing it. "Got me there ~"

He bites down hard on an already forming bruise on Jeremiah's collar bone, while pushing his achingly hard cock inside Jeremiah's hole.

Jeremiah arches his back with a cry, impaling himself further on Jerome's dick, prompting Jerome to bite down even harder, moaning against Jeremiah's skin. Jeremiah's insides are still slick from the lubed butt plug, Jerome's own cock however went in dry and it _burns,_ it burns like _hell._

But his brother's tight heat still welcomes him so nicely and Jerome doesn't take long to let either of them adjust. Pulling away from Jeremiah's collar bone, flicking his tongue over tooth marks that already started trickling with blood, he sets a rhythm, slow for now, but deep and hard, his fingers digging in Jeremiah's bare hips.

Jeremiah is a mess already, moaning and writhing against Jerome, head thrown back against the wall. "Ah..! H-harder..!", he demands, gripping a fistful of Jerome's hair. "Come on, Jerome..! Make it..._hurt..!"_

The breathless request goes right to Jerome's cock. However, he still cackles, unable to hold himself back as he whispers mockingly: "And you call _me_ desperate..."

He does as he's essentially told, slamming into his brother almost brutally, the pain making it _better_ and he knows Jeremiah agrees, can tell by the tight grip in his hair and on the back of his neck.

"That all ya got? Come on, doll face, use those fuckin' nails..!", Jerome snarls and Jeremiah complies, hands sliding under Jerome's jacket and shirt. He digs his nails in and rakes them upwards, definitely leaving angry red lines. Jerome moans, his shoulders twitching at the pain, tongue flicking out to lick a trail from Jeremiah's neck up to his ear. _Mine,_ he thinks, making himself shudder in bliss, _all mine. _

He lowers his mouth to the bite marks on Jeremiah's collar bone, sinking his teeth in once more. He can't get enough of his brother's taste.

Jeremiah whines, body jerking uncontrollably, unable to decide between pressing up against Jerome's mouth or down against his cock. "Oh...f-fuck..!", he breathes out, fingers finding Jerome's hair again and tugging, "Put, put me down..!"

Under different circumstances, Jerome would've giggled and pointedly ignored his brother's breathless demand. However, constantly holding him up while thrusting into him with all he's got _is_ starting to take its toll on Jerome's legs, so he obeys.

They both groan in discomfort when Jerome pulls out of Jeremiah. He lowers him down, about to grab him again and shove him to the floor.

Jeremiah seems to have a different idea. He grabs Jerome by the front of his shirt and hooks one of his legs around his. Jerome grunts in surprise, landing harshly on his back, about to pull out his switchblade again to straighten the little bastard out.

But when Jeremiah swings one leg over Jerome's body to straddle him, Jerome freezes in place, staring up at him in absolute awe.

Jeremiah looks deliciously disheveled, silky green hair a ruffled mess, red lipstick smeared all over his jaw, his pale throat and neck littered with bruises and bloody bite marks, and yet, he somehow still manages to look distinguished. He wraps one hand around Jerome's cock, bracing himself on Jerome's chest with the other. "Stay still, brother..!"

He lowers himself down on Jerome's cock, both brothers sucking in a shaky breath at the new angle. Jeremiah even bites his lip and throws his head back while Jerome's hands come up to grab it his hips again. "If that ain't a sight to behold..!"

Jeremiah has the audacity to huff out a chuckle at that before lowering his head again to maintain eye contact with Jerome. Right before he starts moving, he grabs fistfuls of Jerome's white button-up and rips it apart, the buttons clattering to the floor around them. Jerome holds his breath.

Jeremiah tilts his head and Jerome has no idea how someone is able to look so smug with an ass full of cock. "You didn't think I'd let you off easy, did you?", Jeremiah coos, nails scratching down Jerome's chest right as he starts moving his hips. 

Its fucking amazing. Jerome's entire skin starts to tingle, heat pooling in his stomach at the harsh treatment of his chest and the tight warmth around his cock. "Shit..!"

Jeremiah is _wrecking_ him, but he doesn't look too unimpressed either, bouncing on Jerome's cock, drops of sweat collecting on his temples, lips parted as he lets out a symphony of needy moans and whimpers, eyelids fluttering like he's having a hard time keeping them open. Jerome is pretty sure he is. "You make..._fuck_...quite the cowgirl, baby bro-_ther-!" _

Jerome's words dissolve into a gurgle when Jeremiah's fingers wrap around his throat. He's not holding on lightly either, squeezing enough for Jerome's chest to feel tight. The look on Jeremiah's face is much too soft for what he's doing, an almost sweet smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "There we go..!"

He leans as much of his weight on his hands as possible while still riding Jerome's cock. Jerome's eyes start to water, his throat burning. It's glorious. "I like you better when...when you're not talking..!", Jeremiah presses out between moans and Jerome would've laughed if he had enough air to do such a thing.

He wraps a hand around one of Jeremiah's wrists, using the other to fumble for his switchblade, tucked away in the pocket of his pants. His access is blocked by Jeremiah's knee however, and his vision is starting to go black at the edges -

Jeremiah releases a strained noise, like a moan that didn't quite make it out of his throat. He twitches, his knee giving a tiny jerk and Jerome takes the opportunity, hand slipping in his pocket, fingers closing around the handle and _yes -_

"Close..!"

Jerome flicks the blade out and slices through Jeremiah's suit jacket and shirt, cutting into the flesh right beneath his elbow. Jeremiah chokes on a gasp, his grip on Jerome's throat loosening enough for him to sit up. He yanks Jeremiah's head back by his hair and holds the switchblade to his throat. "Say my name."

Jerome's voice is raspy and he has to fight the urge to cough. He's thrusting up into Jeremiah as precisely as he can in their position. Jeremiah is gripping at both of Jerome's wrists, teeth clenched and eyes sharp but judging by how desperately he seems to be trying to hold in any sounds _(just out of spite because he hates it when Jerome overpowers him)_, Jerome is _definitely_ hitting his prostate with every stroke.

His face breaks into a grin and he presses the dull edge of the blade right against Jeremiah's Adam's apple. "Say my name when you cum or I _swear,_ precious boy, I'll cut that _pretty_ throat open and rip your vocal chords out with my _teeth..!"_

It's an empty threat _(sort of)_ but Jeremiah's eyes light up before he squeezes them shut, jaw unclenching as he parts his lips, his thighs starting to tremble - 

"Je-_Jerome..!"_

He feels Jeremiah clench around his cock, coming between their stomachs completely untouched. The way he whimpered Jerome's name, along with the overwhelming feeling of his walls tightening around Jerome push him over the edge as well. He moans, deep and rough, flinging his knife aside carelessly, one hand still tight in Jeremiah's hair while he brings the other to his hip, gripping tightly, holding him down to fill him to the brim. Jeremiah mewls a little, going completely slack in Jerome's lap, falling forward and against him when Jerome releases his hair.

They're both shaking, sweat-soaked shirts sticking unpleasantly to their bodies, chests heaving with heavy breaths. Jeremiah manages to at least shrug of his suit jacket, his purple button-up clinging to his skin. Jerome does the same, his own white button-up hanging loosely from his shoulders from Jeremiah's assault.

Jeremiah wraps his arms around Jerome's neck and rests his cheek on his shoulder, allowing himself those tiny gestures of affection only when he's completely and utterly drained after an intense orgasm. Jerome holds him loosely, his fingers rubbing up and down Jeremiah's back lazily.

He starts giggling when he remembers something Jeremiah said. "Losing my touch, huh?"

Jeremiah can't do much except bite Jerome's shoulder, not even hard enough to draw blood, prompting Jerome to giggle even more. "Next time I'll keep squeezing..!", Jeremiah hisses.

Jerome nuzzles a mocking kiss against his sweaty temple. "Next time ya won't be havin' your hands free ~"


End file.
